


In Days Like These

by Requiem



Category: ELEX (Video Game)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Post-Canon, Team Dynamics, Traumatic Brain Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:34:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25180042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Requiem/pseuds/Requiem
Summary: A problem Jax has ignored for months can no longer be brushed aside. Luckily, his friends are there to help, even if he doesn't realise it.
Kudos: 5
Collections: Genuary 2021





	In Days Like These

The Hybrid may be gone, but the headaches have not. He's been plagued with them since Kallax's failure to properly kill him, but after all other wounds from his crash and botched execution had healed and the pain had dulled to a tolerable level, the headaches had remained, a sudden onset of dull but insistent throbbing in his head with no discernible cause or pattern. When he'd learned about the Hybrid's control chip, it had made sense to blame it for the incessant headaches, just another obstacle heaped atop the already-considerable pile that had been thrown at him. But now, the Hybrid is gone, the chip is well and truly defunct, and still, the headaches linger.

If it had just been the headaches, he might have been able to put up with it. He’s no stranger to pain, after all. But he's out in southern Edan for several days—alone, because leading Origin and preparing it for what's to come is a whole different beast to being a commander and he needs the quiet to clear his head—to track down and clear out a nest of mutants when everything becomes blindingly bright all of a sudden. He finishes off the rotboar in front of him by tracking its position through its growls, then swinging his sword when the vibration in the ground gets close enough. It’s fortunate that there aren’t any more around, because he might not have fared as well against a whole pack at once. He retreats to the darkness offered by the trees, and snaps the tinted visor he'd removed from his helmet back on.

The light sensitivity, like the headaches, comes and goes. That, too, he might have been able to deal with, but it doesn’t stop there. Somewhere along the way, he goes from sleeping a few hours a night to sleeping only every other night. He spends his sleepless hours alternating between fruitlessly lying in bed and endlessly cleaning his gear. The thought of food makes him nauseous, but he forces himself to eat somewhat regularly anyway after dizziness from the hunger nearly costs him an arm in an encounter with a moloch. A few extra-strength healing potions clears it up, but the stiffness in his right shoulder never quite goes away.

Then one morning, he gets up to meet Duras for one of their sparring sessions, and finds himself sitting tucked away under the bridge at the base of the waterfall with no recollection of how he’d gotten there. He can tell from the sun's position in the sky that several hours have passed since he'd woken up.

"Jax!" Ray's voice cuts through the jumbled mess of his thoughts. "There you are! Everyone’s been lookin’ for you. We figured you mighta gotten sick of us asking you to do stuff all time and run off."

Jax gets to his feet and brushes the grass off his clothes. "I wouldn’t do that."

"That’s what I told ‘em, but between you and me, I wouldn't blame you if you did. The last couple a months have been a helluva wild ride, and if that Hybrid of yours is right, it's only gonna get worse from here."

"Yes, there is much to do."

"That's not what I meant."

Jax has no idea what Ray _does_ mean, but he often doesn't, so he doesn't ask for more details. Ray, on the other hand, doesn't let things go so easily.

"Jax, what's up with you lately, man?"

"What are you talking about?" Jax doesn't slow his long strides up the hill, and Ray has to almost jog to keep up.

"I mean, after we got back from Xacor, everyone agreed to give you some space to deal with, y'know, stuff." Ray vaguely waves his hands about and gives Jax an expectant look. "Please don't make me say it, I'm not good at this emotional crap."

"I'm not making you do anything."

"It's gonna be like that, huh?"

As the road to the settlement comes into view, the sun hits Jax right in the eyes, and pain sears through his head as his vision whites out for a few seconds. He doesn't quite stagger, but he does stop dead in his tracks, and he feels Ray come within a hair's breadth of colliding with him.

"Whoa!" Ray exclaims. "What is it?"

The blurry outlines of the settlement buildings gradually begin to take shape, bathed in too-bright sunlight.

"Nothing," Jax grits out.

"Like hell it's nothin'." Ray darts around to the front, and whatever he sees in Jax's face makes him frown. "Come over here for a sec, would ya?" Though he phrases it as a question, he gives Jax no say in the matter by grabbing his arm and pulling him over the bridge. Jax lets him, because while he's sure he could still take Ray in a fight, handicapped as he is, starting something here will only raise more questions than he's willing to answer.

Ray brings him before Falk and says, "What's wrong with him?"

Before Jax can raise a word of protest, Falk has already looked him up and down. "You are unwell," Falk says.

"I'm fine," Jax growls even though the throbbing in his head intensifies with every second he spends outside. "I have work to do." Today, they're scheduled to clear out a mine to the south that's been taken over by reavers. They'll need all the iron they can get for making weapons and armour.

Jax wrenches his arm out of Ray's grip and heads for the tower. Neither Ray nor Falk make a move to stop him, but he can feel their eyes on his back until he turns the corner and breaks their line of sight.

His armour hangs next to his bed, sword neatly resting against the wall next to it. All he has to do is pull on the pieces, sling his sword onto his back, and be on his way, but as he sits on the bed with his eyes closed and a hand to his pounding head, it seems like far too much of an effort to make.

Then someone knocks on the door, and he forces himself to his feet to answer it.

"Jax!" Caja's standing outside, armour on and sword at her hip. "Falk told me you weren't feeling well, so I thought I'd take your place on today's expedition."

So Ray and Falk had decided to go behind his back since the direct approach hadn't worked.

"I'm fine," Jax says. "I was just about to get geared up."

Caja leans forward slightly, a small frown creasing her forehead as she examines Jax's face. "No, I have to agree with Falk. I think you could do with a day off. It's no trouble, really. I didn't have anything else to do anyway."

She's gone before Jax can call her back, and after that, it just seems easier to go back inside.

-

He only intends to lie down until his headache recedes to a more manageable level, but when he opens his eyes again, the sun is casting long shadows from the western side of the room, and his stomach is loudly proclaiming its need for sustenance. He silences it with an energy bar from the kitchen, checks his reflection in the shield hanging on the wall to make sure it's not obvious that he's just woken up, then steels himself and goes outside.

The stone walls block the worst of the remaining sunlight, so it's unlikely there'll be a repeat of what happened earlier today. When he walks past Falk in his usual spot, Falk's eyes immediately lock on to him, but Falk says nothing as Jax makes his way over to where Duras is standing watch over the southern entrance into the settlement as labourers cart wagons of iron ore up from the mine.

"Jax." Duras nods in greeting when Jax comes to a stop beside him. "Caja said you were unwell. How are you feeling?"

Jax bites back the surge of irritation that wells up in him. At this rate, everyone in Origin will soon be questioning his ability to function properly as their leader. He needs to put a stop to this.

"I feel fine. She overreacted." Jax lets the annoyance he feels bleed through into his voice. "How was the expedition to the mine?"

"About a dozen reavers had moved in after killing the miners, but we took care of them easily enough. Three casualties on our side, nothing serious. The training's really paying off." There's a question in Duras' eyes about their missed training session this morning, but Jax doesn't give him the chance to ask.

"You posted guards?"

"Two at the entrance, two inside, and two more hidden in a hunting blind outside. Relief guards come at staggered times every four hours."

"Good. Now that we've got a steady supply of iron, we can get our own production chain going."

So far, the other factions have been willing to trade metal for food and herbs, but soon they'll want focus on their own production, and Origin will be left behind in the dust. The Free People might be trying to work together again, but Jax has been out amongst them, has seen how their values clash and how they can't even work with their own people at times. They might all be working towards a common goal, but he's not holding out much hope for a united Magalan.

Duras is still watching him. "You know that we're here for you, right? You need only say the word."

"Your loyalty is appreciated."

"That's not what I meant."

"Then speak plainly." He's sick of everyone not saying what they mean; it's hard enough for him to read between the lines on a good day, but the thought of trying to decipher the hidden meaning behind their words when he already has so much on his mind is almost enough to bring his headache back.

"If, for any reason, you should find yourself unable to complete your duties, there is no shame in asking for help. Any of us here would be glad to lend our assistance."

Jax considers this for a moment, then nods. "I will keep that in mind."

Duras thinks him too prideful when the truth is he shouldn't need their help, not for something as trivial as this. Elex dulls emotions, not pain receptors; he's been through worse than this before without complaint. As long as he's still capable of fighting and overseeing their operations in Origin, he sees no reason to discuss the matter further.

-

For a week, no one else asks him how he's feeling or tries to delegate his duties behind his back, and he lets himself believe that it's because they've taken his words to heart and left well enough alone.

Then, while out on a scouting trip one afternoon to determine the most suitable site to clear for use as farmland, he finds himself back in Origin with no knowledge of the hours in between. He makes up for the lost time by asking one of the apprentices for her notes on the trip under the guise of needing to give the decision more careful consideration.

That should have been the end of it, only it keeps happening, and it gets harder and harder to hide as the others begin to pick up on simple observations he should have seen himself. For all he knows, he might have, only, he can't remember. He starts getting into the habit of writing down anything that could be important—in code, of course—and enlists U4 to record audio logs for the more mundane issues.

For a while, it works. Things still slip through the gaps when he can't remember who he's talked to and doesn't want to tip his hand by asking around, or when sectors go unguarded because he's moved patrols around and hasn't remembered to send replacements, but things are moving quickly in Origin nowadays, and small mistakes are easily lost in the flurry of activity around the settlement.

It all comes to a head when a company of albs descends on Origin in the dead of night. He almost sleeps right through the first wave despite the shouting and gunfire outside, only waking when an energy blast hits the other side of the wall and nearly throws him out of bed. Muscle memory has him geared up and grabbing his weapons before his brain slowly pieces together the facts to come to the conclusion that Origin is under attack.

No one sees him slip out of the tower to join the fight, and he throws himself into the fray with a singlemindedness to defend the place he now calls home, and the people he's come to hold dear. Being that it's night, he's forgone the visor on his helmet in favour of higher visibility, which means there's nothing between him and the burst of light that explodes before his eyes when a plasma ball makes contact with the wall next to him.

The effect is intense and immediate, all his senses overwhelmed at once as the now-familiar pain returns to his head. The smell of smoke fills his nose as a metallic tang settles on his tongue, and his ears are ringing so violently he can barely hear the sounds of the battle still raging on around him. He can't see, but that too is an old annoyance now; the albs' armour gives them a distinctive weight he can pinpoint in the vibrations that rock the wooden floor, so he only needs to stay away from them long enough for his vision to restore to a level where he can discern where the next strike is coming from.

Then time skips, for a few minutes at most, and he finds himself on one knee with his back against a wall while a blurry shape looms over him. It raises its hammer, and he tries to do the same with the sword he can still feel in his hand, but it feels as if he's moving in slow motion while the rest of the world carries on as usual. He knows he won't be able to block the blow in time, but still he forces his leaden arms to do his bidding.

Something else appears in the corner of his field of view. Another blurry, hammer-wielding, humanoid shape that knocks the first one out of sight. The newcomer turns and says something to him, but the ringing in his ears hasn't quite let up yet and he can't make sense of the words.

"Jax!" Arx hauls him up to eye level with a fist in the front of his armour. A small bolt of clarity pierces through the haze. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I just need a minute." The words are difficult to form in his mouth, so he doesn't explain further, but adjusts his grip on the hilt of his sword to better grasp it. Only, instead of sitting more firmly in his hand, it clatters to the floor, and the rest of him would have followed had Arx not been holding him up.

Arx is giving him a glare that's equal parts anger and irritation that clearly shines through the blank mask the elex usually paints on his face. Jax wants to tell him to leave, but before he can say anything, Arx is dragging him to a supply shed and tossing him inside.

"Stay here. Be quiet," Arx orders before he leaves.

Jax can't disobey even if he's of a mind to; his body refuses to listen to any of his commands, and every time he blinks it becomes a little harder to open his eyes again. Eventually, consciousness leaves him entirely.

-

He wakes up in his room in the tower, soft sunlight and gentle birdsong coming through the windows. For a moment, he thinks he's in a dream, but when he sits up, the beginnings of a headache spring to life behind his eyes and reality comes sharply into focus around him.

"How are you feeling?" a vaguely familiar voice asks.

He jerks his head up to find Akira, the healer from Goliet, standing in the doorway to his room.

"You've been asleep for two days," she tells him. "Your friends are worried about you."

"What are you doing here?" Surely there hasn't been a shortage of work in Goliet.

"Like I said, your friends are worried about you. They thought whatever was troubling you could be elex related, and I've been studying elex withdrawal, so they thought I might be able to help."

"Well I'm sorry you wasted a trip. It's been months since I've taken any elex." In the early days, he'd down an elex drink or two to chase away what he'd thought were withdrawal headaches, but they hadn't made any difference, and the symptoms had only worsened, elex or no elex.

"Yes, I thought it unlikely, but in the course of my research, I've never turned down the opportunity to examine a former alb. And though rehabilitation plans are progressing nicely with the help I've been getting from the separatists, there's still no one as far along as you." Akira regards him contemplatively before seemingly shaking herself out of her thoughts. "Putting my curiosity aside, I came to see if I could help you, and I still believe I can." She comes into the room, circling around in front of the windows so that Jax is forced to face the light if he wants to keep her in his sights. "Look up, just for a moment."

She puts a finger under his chin to prompt him to comply, and almost immediately, the room begins to dissolve into white. Akira doesn't torment him for long, looking deeply into his eyes for a few seconds before releasing him with a thoughtful noise.

"The good news is I think I know what's wrong. The bad news is you're not going to like what I'm about to propose as treatment."

"What is it?" Whatever it is, it can't be as bad as teetering on the verge of disaster every time he ventures outside. People are relying on him, and he needs them to trust that he'll be capable of looking after them.

"You need to rest," Akira says. "And I don't just mean taking a day or two off. I'm talking weeks, maybe even months."

"I don't have that kind of time."

"Then you need to _make_ time. I'm serious, Jax. How many blows to the head have you taken since you crashed your raider? Either that or the fall you took afterwards was probably the catalyst, and everything that's happened since then has only made it worse. You need to rest and give yourself time to heal. And if you won't do it willingly, there are plenty of people out there I can recruit to help." Akira nods at the front door.

Jax reluctantly agrees to take on less duties for the next few weeks, at least until he can step outside without being blindsided by the sunlight. It makes him a liability in combat, he'd known that, but until the night of the attack, he'd thought it was something he'd be able to overcome through sheer force of will. He knows better now, but it still stings to essentially be told he's unfit to do his job, no matter how temporary.

He forces down a bowl of soup under Akira's watchful eye, then she packs up her things and leaves him to rest with a stern warning that she'll be dropping by occasionally to make sure her instructions are being followed.

Jax has already slept two days away and doesn't intend on wasting more, but there's a heavy weariness deep in his bones that drags him back to his bed. Just for a few minutes, he tells himself. An hour, at most.

-

It's evening when he wakes up, and he curses himself for the wasted time as he rolls to his feet. Given how things have been going for him lately, he wouldn't be surprised to find that it's not even the same day as when he'd gone to sleep.

He can hear someone moving about in the other room, but Akira had been clear she had other patients to see to in Goliet, so Jax is fairly certain it's not her. He contemplates reaching for the sword against the wall, but ultimately decides against it; here in Origin, he's among some of the people he trusts most, and it does them a disservice to be so paranoid. Besides, it'd be easier to kill him while he'd slept.

"Jax, hey!" Ray greets him cheerily when he opens the bedroom door. "You're just in time."

"In time for what?" The dining table has been laden with food and crockery, the sconces on the walls lit to replace the failing daylight, and Duras is coming through the front door dragging two more chairs to add to the growing collection around the table. "What's going on?"

"We haven't seen you at dinner for a while, so we thought we'd come to you," Caja says as she deposits a basket of bread rolls in the centre of the table.

"I can't possibly eat all this." Just seeing so much food is enough to make him start feeling nauseous.

"The hell do you think we're here for? Decoration?" Nasty drops into a chair and immediately begins to help herself to the food without waiting for anyone else.

"We are here to have a meal with you," Falk helpfully supplies as he files in and also sits down.

"Obviously," Jax says. "But why?"

"Since coming to Origin, we have spent less time of our downtime in each other's company than while we were camped in Edan. Such gatherings as these bring us together when we otherwise would not have, and help to foster feelings of camaraderie."

"What he means is that we're friends, and eating together is a thing that friends do sometimes," Duras says. "Is that really so strange?"

It's true that before they'd come to Origin, almost every evening had been spent around a shared fire, whether at their camp in Edan or out in the wilderness between Jax and whoever he'd chosen to accompany him. Here, it's been all too easy to shut himself away from the others under the pretence of doing work, only emerging to train with them or go on missions.

"Sit down, Jax. Just…sit." Caja pushes down on his shoulders until he complies.

Once he's seated, everyone digs in—Nasty's already on her second plate—and Jax takes a moment to look around the table at the people he's come to consider his friends. Warmth stirs in his chest to see them being so free with each other; berserker, cleric, outlaw, brought together to fight for a common goal. Brought together, in part, because of him.

"Hey," he says as a thought occurs to him. "Where's Arx?"

No sooner had he spoken than the front door slams open. Arx stands in the doorway, fully armed and armoured, not that Jax has ever seen him any other way.

"Jax," Arx says. "What happened the other night should not have. I have reviewed our defences and discovered no fewer than fourteen points of weakness that you had failed to address in the weeks preceding the attack. This illness has made you careless, inefficient, and more foolhardy than usual. It also nearly cost everyone here their lives, and were we in Xacor, you would be put to better use being fed into a converter for elex."

As everyone stares at Arx with varying levels of apprehension, he continues, "But we are not in Xacor, and should anyone wish to do you harm, they will have to go through me first. Do not let this happen again." He performs a sharp about turn and takes up position outside the front door.

"He's a weird one," Ray says, voice lowered. "But he's got the right idea. Part of it, anyway: we're here for you, Jax."

"And not just when you need us to fight," Caja adds.

"Even though the fighting's the fun part," Nasty interjects.

"We'll be here if you ever need a shoulder to lean on," Duras says.

"As a commander relies on their army, so too does a person on their friends." Falk brings their round of heartfelt statements to a conclusion.

"Thank you," Jax says. "All of you."

Their plans remain unchanged, but somehow, the future seems a little less bleak now.


End file.
